


Picking Daisies

by CaptainTulip



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Vaguely underage undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19075636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTulip/pseuds/CaptainTulip
Summary: "Do you like boys, Harry?" he asked in a soft voice, his hands still miraculously working away at his quickly-growing chain of flowers.





	Picking Daisies

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, baffled, as he followed the elf further into the dark forest.  
  
"Do we have to have a destination, Harry?" Legolas smirked, letting Harry's name slip from his mouth like it was from one of his beautiful Elvish tongues, rather than from a nasty, common language like English.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I suppose not." Just walking was rather nice. Especially on a hot, summer's day like this one, where time appeared to stand still, and evil float away on the warm breeze. Especially with Legolas, but he wasn't quite sure why that was. There was something about the elf that made him uncomfortably ... happy.  
  
Legolas smiled at him. "If it makes you feel any better, I know of a lovely clearing somewhere near the northeast side of the forest. We could go there ... it's very pretty," he said, watching Harry carefully.  
  
Harry blushed under the intense scrutiny. "Alright," he said quietly, and they continued walking on in an amiable silence for some time. The forest was starting to get darker, as the trees grew closer and closer together, and the air began taking on a strange thick consistency. Harry shivered a little, studying the elf as they walked. He had long, beautiful, golden hair that seemed to catch every sparkle of the dappled light. There was a little bit tied in a plait at the back, allowing a glimpse of his perfectly pointed ears. His clothes were -- rather odd, if Harry were being truthful, but everyone in the wizarding world's clothes seemed odd to Harry, and none of them were as lovingly crafted as Legolas's. They were all rich textures and fine hues and clever designs and managed to soak up the warmth and colour from all around them, making everything pale in comparison to the elf. He had left most of his armoury and weapons for the day, and most of his clothes were snug and rather ... nice.   
  
Harry's eyes turned to the elf's face. His soft features, large eyes, pouty lips -- Harry gulped. Legolas was -- well, the first word that came to mind was  _pretty_. As soon as Harry thought that, he turned crimson. Pretty Legolas? But "pretty" didn't belong to a man, did it? Pretty belonged to girly things, like skirts and high heels and make up....  
  
Suddenly, unbidden, an image came to Harry's mind of Legolas in a skirt, and he squeaked, mortified.  
  
Legolas turned around, a curious smile on his face. "Are you alright, Harry?" he asked in a soothing voice.  
  
"Fine," Harry muttered, embarrassed at even having such a thought in his head.  
  
"We should be there soon," Legolas said, taking Harry's hand and squeezing it in a comforting way.  
  
He didn't let go, sliding his fingers easily into Harry's, and Harry had no idea what to make of it. Weren't they a little old to be holding hands? But, Harry supposed, it  _did_  feel rather nice. They continued on their way, the coarse bushes and growth seeming to melt away into a neat path before their eyes. Harry wasn't sure whether to be concerned by this, but Legolas's palm was warm in his, and butterflies were flitting around above their heads, seeming to carry all his worries away with them.  
  
"Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?" Legolas's smooth voice broke its way through Harry's meandering thoughts.  
  
"Oh, ah..." Harry stared at his feet as he walked. He wanted desperately to appear cool in front of this admirable creature, but the truth was, he never had had a girlfriend before, and he didn't want Legolas, should he ever find out, to think he was a liar. He shook his head, not daring to look at Legolas's face.  
  
Suddenly, Legolas stopped and Harry felt warm fingers caress his chin and lift it up gently, until his eyes met with Legolas's swirling blue ones.  
  
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," Legolas said, smiling. "You're a very beautiful boy. I'm sure it's only a matter of time." Legolas's smile turned into a teasing grin.  
  
Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch, and he nodded shyly, blushing at what Legolas would say if he knew the truth about Harry's nighttime fantasies. They were so wrong and dirty, and Harry was sure that Legolas would  _never_  have had such bad thoughts. Were there even such things as homosexual elves?  
  
"Do you like girls, Harry?" Legolas asked in a casual tone, and Harry started, having no idea what to make of the question.  _What, in a kissy way? Or just anyway? Is he asking if I like boys better?_  His glasses slid down his nose on a trail of sweat, and he hastily pushed them back up.  
  
"Er, yeah," he said, trying to stick to being normal for once. "Yeah, girls are -- are good." He wasn't really lying. Girls were fine. Nice, sometimes, even.  
  
"Good?" Legolas repeated mockingly, a little spring entering his step.  
  
"Well, do  _you_  like girls?" Harry quipped back, going immediately on the defensive.   
  
"Oh, I like them just fine," Legolas replied, smiling pleasantly. "As friends," he added, and Harry spluttered.  
  
What was that supposed to mean?  
  
"What, you like boys, then?" he asked, then immediately felt terrible. That can't have been what Legolas meant. Maybe elves mated for life, and Legolas's one true love, a beautiful warrior princess, had died in an epic battle and Legolas had been mourning ever since? And Harry had turned it all around into some perverted fantasy? "Sorry," he stammered, becoming surer with every second that something terrible had happened in Legolas's past. He was so tragically beautiful, after all.  
  
"No, no," Legolas said, looking almost pleased. "That's quite all right."  
  
Harry nodded, too terrified to look anywhere but a couple of feet in front of him, down at his grubby trainers, which looked even more disgusting in comparison to the elves pointed leather shoes. His palm was starting to get hot and clammy in Legolas's, and he wasn't sure it was such a bad feeling.  
  
"You're right, anyway," Legolas said, and Harry blinked.  
  
What?  
  
"About what?" Harry asked.  
  
"I  _do_  like boys," Legolas said, turning his head and looking to see Harry's reaction. Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, his mind blank, before swallowing.  
  
"Oh," he said, his voice coming out in barely a whisper.   
  
Then he blinked. Wait. Was he reading into this too much? Was he filling in his own blanks? Did Legolas mean as friends, too?  
  
"Well, here we are," the elf announced, stepping into a large clearing in the forest.  
  
Harry gasped. It really  _was_  beautiful. The dark forest suddenly opened up to a large field. Thousands of daisies scattered the area like hundreds and thousands, as blades of thick, green grass cushioned them amidst colossal trees, with a little flowing stream running through the middle. It looked like a dream, a fairytale, and Harry stopped walking, his mouth hanging open.  
  
"Lovely, isn't it?" Legolas laughed, pulling Harry into the middle of the area. Harry stumbled along, feeling like a ton of bricks next to the light and elegant elf. "Shall we make daisy chains, Harry?"  
  
Harry, never having made a daisy chain in his life, nodded. "Sure. If you want to." Normally, he would have thought it a rather baby-ish and girly thing to do, but as Legolas fell to his knees in front of Harry and began plucking the little flowers from the ground, Harry plonked himself right down, suddenly completely taken with the idea.  
  
He began making his own little collection of daisies, but soon he stopped as his eyes caught sight of Legolas's nimble hands, stroking the little flowers and slipping them into one another.  
  
"You're really good," Harry said, shocked and a little embarrassed to hear his voice coming out all breathy.  
  
Legolas looked up and laughed. "Thousands of years of practice."  
  
And, Harry supposed, he wasn't even joking. He nodded and looked down at his little flowers, which he had managed to crush in his sweaty hands. He shook himself and began trying to make a little hole in the stem of one of his flowers, which was proving exceedingly hard to do with such short nails as he had. He huffed and brought the flower up to his face, slipping the little green stalk into his mouth, trying to use his teeth to make the hole.  
  
Legolas watched the flower's journey from the cool ground to Harry's hot cavern of a mouth and his pupils dilated slightly.  
  
"Do you like boys, Harry?" he asked in a soft voice, his hands still miraculously working away at his quickly-growing chain of flowers.  
  
Harry pulled the daisy from his mouth and looked at the older being. "What, as friends?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to speak normally. He didn't know what it was about Legolas that made him so damn -- hopeless. Harry figured it was probably intimidation from being around such a powerful, immortal being.  
  
"Well, yes," Legolas said, with a small smile, "but what about in other ways?"  
  
Harry stared down at his hands, trying desperately to thread his little flower. "I'm not really -- I mean,  _boys_?" Harry asked, stalling, struggling to find something to say that wasn't a lie but wasn't the truth, either.  
  
Legolas's laugh rang clear in the fresh air. "Well, all right," he conceded, " _men_ , if you're so big and grown up," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.  
  
Harry bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth. His hands had stopped, but he didn't trust himself to speak.  
  
"Have you ever kissed another man, Harry?" Legolas pressed on.  
  
Harry wondered where Legolas was going with this, but he supposed he was just curious. Maybe he was just trying to make conversation. A little basic research into the conversational habits of teenage boys might have pushed him in this direction. Harry thought of Ron's freckled, blanching, completely homophobic face and snorted to himself. Maybe not.  
  
"Umm..." Harry trailed off, shrugging. He shook his head, and coyly looked up into Legolas's eyes, which were the exact colour of the brilliant blue sky above them. He didn't feel like mentioning the fact that he'd never kissed  _anyone_ , let alone a  _man_.  
  
"Would you like to?" Legolas asked, his pink tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip slightly.  
  
"Uh, I h-haven't -- haven't really thought about it," Harry said quickly, watching the path of the slick muscle before it slipped between Legolas's pouting lips again.  _Pretty lips_ , Harry thought, then immediately tried to quash the thought.  
  
Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked, and one of his hands reached up and tucked a strand of golden hair behind his pointed ear. "Why not?"  
  
"Well, have  _you_?" Harry asked, then cursed himself for sounding so childish and nasty.  
  
Legolas's other eyebrow went up to join its partner. "Why, in fact, I have. Many times."  
  
Harry's mouth went dry and it fell open slightly. "You -- you have?"  
  
Legolas nodded, smiling meaningfully at Harry, before dropping his gaze to the chain in his hands, which he was just finishing.  
  
Harry squirmed slightly, telling himself he was just trying to get comfortable on the grass. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.  
  
Ohh- _kay_.  
  
"You know you can talk to me about anything, Harry--"  
  
"What's it like?" Harry blurted, then clapped a hand over his mouth.  _I can't believe I just said that._  
  
Legolas smirked, and then shifted so he was much closer to Harry, bringing his hands over Harry. He placed the little chain of flowers on Harry's head, like Harry was some sort of a princess in a traditional, sacred ritual, and then looked at Harry, their faces less than a few centimetres apart. "It's ... delicious," he said, his hot breath fluttering over Harry's lips, misting up his glasses for a moment.  
  
Harry felt a shiver go down his spine and, feeling rather bold, looked up into Legolas's enrapturing eyes.  
  
"Would you kiss me?" he asked, before he lost his nerve.   
  
Legolas tilted his head slightly, studying Harry. "Do you want me to?"  
  
Harry bit his lip, and nodded. "Yeah," he said, breathily. "Yeah, I think I do."  
  
"I'm not going to be stealing your innocence away, am I?" Legolas asked, teasing. Harry felt his cheeks, once again, fill with blood, and he ducked his head down. But soon enough, he felt Legolas's fingers pull his face up level again. "Have you never been kissed?" he asked, more seriously this time.  
  
Harry gulped and shook his head, wishing both that the world would swallow him up and that he would never have to leave this perfectly enchanted spot.  
  
Legolas caressed Harry's chin. "I would be honoured to be your first," he said softly.  
  
Harry gave a shy smile and nodded his acquiescence.  
  
"Lie down," Legolas instructed and Harry only hesitated for a moment before leaning back and settling himself onto the soft field. Legolas arranged himself around Harry, then slowly lowered himself down, half beside and half on top of the younger boy. He slowly pulled the glasses off Harry's face. "Is this ok?" he whispered and Harry nodded. "I'm going to kiss you now. Are you ready?"  
  
Harry nodded, wetting his lips in anticipation, smiling slightly at the feel of Legolas's long, soft hair trailing on his face. "Please," he whispered. "Kiss me."  
  
And Legolas did.


End file.
